Tortured Love
by xladylovelyliesx
Summary: Peyton is an innocent, aspiring photographer and Brooke Davis is a confident fashion mogul with a dark secret. From the moment Brooke first sees the shy blonde, she knows that no matter what it takes, Peyton will be hers. Breyton, AU, BDSM, femslash, bondage!kink, lovey-dovey darkness.
1. Introduction

**A/N: Alright. Disclaimer, disclaimer, this isn't for children nor is it for anyone who doesn't like lesbian sex or D/s fics. Though if you're not sure if you like D/s fics or not, then I suggest you at least read the intro to give yourself an idea. It stands for Dominant/submissive. Reviews are my drug so if you want an update you better do that. And that's an order.**

* * *

**Tortured Love**

_"Submission is not about being used, submission is about being of use. Submission is not about what is done to you, submission is about what you do for others."  
- Unknown_

Slender fingers curled into dirty blonde locks, forcing her head back. Green eyes gazed up, tears running down her cheeks.

"Very good, Peyton, just like that."

The blonde rocked forward, forcing the fake cock deeper into her throat. She coughed and gagged against it, her lungs spasming from lack of air. She did it again, rocking forward, gagging on it. She felt the hand wound in her hair pull her backwards- it was her Mistress's way of giving permission to breathe.

Immediately she gasped for air, her hands gripping at the brunette's thighs. She felt a hand on her chin, wiping away the spit that had leaked down. She looked up at her Mistress, feeling a sense of pride for not stopping even though her body had been screaming otherwise. She was rewarded with a smile, and then a gentle smack to her cheek.

"Good girl. Now go get cleaned up and meet me downstairs for dinner." She said as she turned around, stepping out of the strap-on.

Peyton forced herself up off of her knees, her whole body humming with a mix of throbbing pleasure and pain.

"Oh and Peyton,"

She looked up. Her Mistress tossed the strap on at her. Peyton caught it, raising her eyebrow.

"Wash that for me."

Peyton smiled slightly as she watched the brunette turn and walk out of the room. She never would have thought this is what her life would be like, but somehow it worked. She craved the attention given to her, as if it was a drug and she was an addict. She was addicted to the lifestyle, she yearned for control and guidance, and now that she finally had it she wanted it to stay like that forever.

* * *

_Three months earlier_

"Millicent get me the folder with the photos from the shoot of the fall line, I want to see them before they're put in the magazine. Oh and make an appointment for me to get a manicure, I want my nails done for the fashion show." Brooke Davis walked through the lobby of her building, Davis Enterprises, followed by her assistant, Millicent. Millicent quickly helped Brooke out of her long wool jacket, slinging it over her forearm.

"Ms. Davis your schedule is booked for the next week. I could make an appointment for Saturday if you'd be willing. Or I could see if a manicurist could go to your condo—"

"What do I have planned for Friday at four?" Brooke asked as she took her latte from the brunette standing beside her.

Millicent pulled her planner from her pocket, flipping through. "Um... you have a meeting with Target's CEO."

Brooke groaned, "I already told them they're not selling my clothes. I sell high fashion clothing sold in _my_ boutiques, not in department stores. Cancel it, send them a bouquet of flowers with an apology for the late cancellation notice, and book me a manicure. I already have a hair appointment on Saturday. Oh and Millicent, take the day off tomorrow. You look tired and I need you at your best for the fashion show on Monday." She said as she sipped the foam off of the top of her latte. The elevator door opened and she walked out.

"Really?" Millicent asked, increasing her pace to keep up with her boss.

"Yes really. You're a good assistant, Milli." Brooke said as she waved at her bystanding employees, walking past them and into her office. She let out a content sigh as she walked over to her long, oak desk and sat down behind it, placing her latte on the glass coaster beside her monitor.

Millicent walked in seconds later, closing the door behind her. She hung Brooke's coat in the rack beside the door and put a beige file folder in front of the dimpled brunette.

"The fall line photo shoot." Millicent explained, stepping back and watching intently as Brooke flipped through the photos. She had a sour look on her face. "Is something wrong?"

Brooke pursed her lips, closing the folder, "I don't like the brunette model. She's too skinny, not muscular enough." She held the folder up, "Tell Michael please." She requested, reaching up with her free hand to pull a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"He told me to tell you that they aren't edited yet." Millicent offered quietly.

Brooke sighed, "Photoshop won't add ten pounds to her, and even though I'm sure Michael could somehow pull that off, we edit our photos to touch up blemishes, not to manipulate our models' bodies. Now please, take this back to him. Tell him not to use the photos." She said firmly. Millicent immediately took the folder. She knew better than to argue. Ms. Davis had become a business mogul for a reason.

Brooke momentarily closed her eyes when Millicent left her office, closing the door softly behind her. She let out a long, drawn-out breath before opening her eyes and turning on her computer screen. She had no more than thirty seconds to herself before there was a loud knock on her frosted glass door.

Michael walked in, his camera hanging from around his neck. He was a darker skinned man, shaved head, bright eyes, wide smile. He was one of Brooke's favourite employees, and a good friend.

"Is there a problem?" she asked quietly.

"A little. I already paid all of the models. I'm not sure I can get that money back." He said apologetically, walking over and sitting in one of the chairs across from Brooke.

"Don't worry about it. Just make sure she doesn't reference us because she won't actually be in the magazine." Brooke said. Michael nodded, and when he normally would have kissed her cheek and left, he stayed still. "Michael? Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Brooke, I have some bad news." He frowned.

"What's wrong?" Brooke sat forward, more concerned.

He swallowed before speaking. "Blake is sick. He has lung cancer, we just found out last night." He said, his words breaking. Brooke's eyes widened, and she covered her mouth with her hand. Blake was Michael's lifelong partner. Michael always told stories of how he and Blake met in high school, and Blake stood up for him countless times in front of his homophobic parents.

"God damn it, Michael. I am so sorry." Brooke got up and walked around her desk, hugging Michael when he finally stood. He hugged her back, wiping a tear from his cheek. "You take as much time as you need, understood? If you need any help with medical bills, you let me know. I'm here for you and Blake- one hundred percent." She said softly, stroking Michael's cheek.

He nodded through silent tears, wringing his hands together, "Thank you, Brooke. I'm sorry for the sudden notice, I—"

"Don't even worry about it. I'll find someone to do your job in the mean time, and when you're ready you can have it back. You'll always be my favourite photographer." She flashed a cheeky grin.

He let out a light hearted chuckle, holding her face. "You're my favourite bitchy brunette." He said.

Brooke laughed, turning her head to kiss his hand, "Give Blake my best, okay? Now get out of here, go be with your husband." She said softly.

Michael nodded, smiling thankfully, "We'll have dinner sometime, on me. I owe you." He said.

Brooke nodded, "I'll be happy to let you take me to dinner, fine Sir." She teased.

Michael gave her one last hug, sighing deeply, "You always know how to make me feel better." He said, pulling back and sharing a look with his boss. He smiled and then walked out of the office.

Brooke gnawed on her lower lip. Not that she would have considered telling Michael, but she really needed him for the fashion show on Monday. He was her main photographer _and_ photo editor. She immediately walked to her desk and sat down, going through her computer files. She needed to find another photographer, and fast.

Millicent walked in, "Michael's leaving?" she asked.

Brooke nodded, "Millicent, call Jeffrey. Ask him if he can come to the fashion show, I'll pay his way." She said.

"Jeffrey, as in the B. Davis photographer in LA?" Millicent asked.

"Yes." Brooke said shortly. Millicent nodded and left, returning back minutes later with an apologetic look on her face. "What now?" Brooke sighed.

"Jeffrey is in the Bahamas with his wife on their honeymoon." Millicent said.

"Oh, right. Shit." Brooke cursed.

"I can bring you the file of applicants?" Millicent offered.

"I don't want an amateur taking photos for my magazine. Look through them, find one that has experience editing photos, and has decent photo samples." Brooke said, looking at her computer rather than at her assistant.

"Right away." Millicent responded, turning and walking out.

* * *

Peyton Sawyer sat down on the black leather couch, facing the front desk at Davis Enterprises. She pulled her camera off from around her neck and placed it on her lap, nervously tapping her matte black nails on her leg.

She had applied for this job months ago. Right now she was stuck working at a record shop, saving her paychecks to pay for her hole-in-the-wall apartment. She looked up as she heard a door open across the room, and she saw a red headed girl walk out of the CEO's office, tears in her eyes.

Peyton chewed her lip, "Rough?" she asked quietly as the girl walked towards her. The girl nodded.

"Good luck." She said miserably, walking out.

Peyton's eyes followed the red head as she walked out, but her eyes flicked forward as she heard someone clear their throat.

She saw a brunette standing in front of her, holding a file under her arm. She pressed her glasses up on the bridge of her nose, regaining her composure. "Ms. Davis is ready to see you."

Peyton stood up.

"The room at the end. Knock first." The woman said. Peyton nodded slightly, giving an awkward smile before walking along.

She reached the door and knocked firmly on it, twice.

"Come in."

Her voice didn't seem too intimidating. Peyton opened the door and walked in, and immediately her knees went weak. Sure, she'd seen Brooke Davis on the front of magazines and in the tabloids, but she was _so_ much sexier in person. Peyton was at a complete loss for words.

"Close the door." She said curtly.

Peyton swallowed, snapping out of her trance. She closed the door, a little too hard for her own liking, and sat down in the chair in front of the daunting brunette.

"I'm Peyton. I, uh, I'm here for the photographer job..." Peyton swallowed, silently cursing herself for even getting out of bed this morning.

"I can see that." Brooke said amusedly, "Tell me a bit about yourself, Peyton."

"I'm... uh, I'm twenty two. I have a really bad job at a record store, but photography and art is what I've always wanted to do. I just love it, it makes me happy." Peyton said quietly. She was sure she was blushing.

"Are you good under pressure?"

"No- Yes, I mean yes. I'm just... I thought you meant talking. I get really nervous. But I'm good at photography under pressure, yes." Peyton gushed.

Brooke's lips curved into a smile. Peyton nervously cleared her throat. "You've got the job." She said finally.

Peyton's eyes widened, "Really? I mean, thank you! I'm so happy but I thought I did horrible." She said.

"I like you, Peyton, don't screw this up. Be here tomorrow at eight, my assistant Millicent will show you around, show you where you'll be working, and on Monday we have a fashion show that you'll be taking photos of for my magazine." Brooke explained.

"I won't screw it up, this is amazing, thank you so much." Peyton said.

"You're welcome. We're done here, you can leave now." Brooke said.

Peyton nodded, standing back up. She smiled before walking out. Brooke sat in silence for a few minutes before Millicent walked back in, her eyebrows raised.

"_Her?_" she asked quietly, "She's not even the most experienced." She said.

Brooke nodded, "I know. There's something about her though, I like her. You'll show her around tomorrow, okay? Now, I have to finish my sketches so some uninterrupted time would be great." She said, arching a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

"Of course. I'll make sure no one bothers you." Millicent said before walking out.

Brooke flipped open Peyton's file, gazing at the photo of her- standing on a beach at sunrise. It was one of her sample photos, she was cocky to put it in, but Brooke liked that. She smiled to herself, tracing her fingertips over the glossy photo.

It wasn't usual that a girl caught Brooke's attention. She had a few _girlfriends_ over the years but nothing very serious. She had always known that she was a lesbian, and she had always known that she was a particularly dominant person. It was just part of who she was. And just like she could see the twinkle in the eyes of the women similar to her, she could just _tell_ that Peyton was similar to her- that she would eventually be hers. How long it would take, however, she had no idea.


	2. First Encounter

**A/N: So this is a little different than what I originally had planned (and a little shorter) but I really want this fic to be all sorts of sexy so I changed it and ended up with this! Hopefully it amuses you. Oh and this isn't edited so excuse any mistakes that slipped my horribly fast post-read. :P**

**Trigger warnings may apply: Rated M, slight dub!con, corporal punishment, femslash.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to Mark. If only they belonged to me. Sad face.**

* * *

_"Being your slave, what should I do but tend_

_Upon the hours and times of your desire?_

_I have no precious time at all to spend,_

_Nor services to do till you require."_

_-William Shakespeare_

Peyton was sitting backstage at a desk, loading the photos of the fashion show onto her new laptop; a gift from Brooke. Peyton hadn't actually seen the brunette since her interview. Well, she had seen her but not spoken to her. Brooke was wearing a one-of-a-kind Clothes Over Bros cocktail dresses. It was black with silver beading over the bust. Her hair was up in a braided bun, her eyes were silver and lined with a thick charcoal black liner, and her lips were a dark purple to match her violet pumps. Peyton had experienced a whole new kind of sexy when she saw Brooke. It was elegant, seductive, dark, and regal all at the same time.

Peyton looked at the pictures taken of several models on the runway. She had been so nervous about not getting the right shot. This was her first time photographing a fashion show and considering it was one of such importance, her heart had been in her throat all day leading up to it. But looking at the pictures, seeing the wide variety of angles and poses she captured, she had to smile. It was some of her best work. The photos kept loading, all of the models, until a photo of Brooke loaded. She was sitting front row, an amused look on her face. Peyton's eyes widened as several more pictures of Brooke loaded onto her computer. She didn't even remember taking them, but _God_ did that woman look sexy.

"You do know you're being paid to take photos of the models."

Peyton's heart fluttered and she turned around, absolutely mortified to see the brunette standing a few paces behind her.

"I-I..."

Brooke's lips stayed in a firm line, though she would be smiling if she wasn't enjoying Peyton's discomfort so much.

Peyton was completely frozen. She felt like crying and dying and screaming all at the same time. She opened her mouth. Hoping that she could somehow coax an explanation out of her mouth. But her voice betrayed her and she just stared, dumbfounded, at her boss.

"Come with me."

Brooke turned and walked out. It took a second for Peyton to react. She closed her laptop and got up, following the brunette down the hall and into her private change room. The door clicked closed behind Peyton, and suddenly she felt very trapped.

"You think it's okay to take photos of me?" Brooke asked amusedly.

Peyton shook her head no.

"Answer me." Brooke snapped.

"N-No." Peyton stuttered quietly.

"But you just couldn't help yourself, could you?" Brooke stepped closer, uncomfortably close. Again, Peyton shook her head no. "And what do you say?" Brooke whispered, her voice softer.

"I'm... Uh... I'm sorry?" Peyton offered softly.

Brooke nodded, reaching up and grabbing Peyton's chin. Peyton squeezed her legs together, feeling the warmth beginning to build. "That's right. But you know it was wrong, and when you do something wrong you get punished." Brooke whispered, her nails digging into Peyton's jaw.

"Brooke... please, I'm sorry-"

Brooke leaned forward and harshly kissed Peyton, biting her lower lip and letting out a small groan. She slid her tongue over Peyton's lip, and Peyton immediately reacted with a quiet moan. Brooke pulled away and gripped Peyton's wrist.

She sat on the vanity chair and pulled Peyton over her lap. Peyton immediately tried pushing herself up. "Brooke, no-" Peyton yelped as an unexpected hit to her thighs came down hard and fast.

"It'll only hurt more if you fight it." Brooke's voice was calm and it made Peyton scared.

"Please Brooke- I don't-" _Smack_! "Ow! Stop it!" Peyton cried out. She heard a small groan come from Brooke, and she became very aware of the throbbing between her legs.

Brooke smirked. Peyton loved it, but like most she wasn't about to swallow her pride and admit it. Brooke landed twelve more hard swats to Peyton's ass, holding her down tightly.

Peyton was gasping for air, tears running down her cheeks at the burning sensation that had taken over her ass. Brooke slowly released her hold on Peyton's back, and then lifted Peyton's dark green cocktail dress up over her ass.

Brooke raised her eyebrows, "No panties?" she murmured, quite amused with the younger blonde.

Peyton let out a small whimper, of embarrassment and ecstasy. Now that she was completely on display for her boss, her gorgeous fucking boss, she felt the throbbing increase. It just made her tears flow faster.

"Don't cry, it's okay that you like this. I do." Brooke whispered as she leaned down, pressing her lips to Peyton's pink ass. Peyton was slightly relieved, but then another smack came and she cried out.

Brooke chuckled softly, and then continued hitting Peyton's ass over and over until she was satisfied with the colour. Peyton had officially broken down and was crying, too embarrassed to lift her head.

Brooke slid her fingers down Peyton's ass, reaching her thighs, and then gently spread her open. Brooke hummed softly. "Good girl, you're so wet." she whispered, her fingertips grazing Peyton's sex.

Peyton immediately gasped. Brooke's touch was electrifying. She felt it all over her body- in her lungs and down to her fingers and toes.

Brooke toyed gently with Peyton, taking time to explore her folds and slide around her wetness. Peyton was breathing heavy, gripping Brooke's thigh. Brooke's fingers teased Peyton's entrance, dipping inside just past her nails, and then swiftly pulling out. Brooke made a quiet, questioning noise as she slid her fingers over Peyton's exposed ass.

Peyton immediately flinched, "No." she pleaded worriedly. The panic in her voice let Brooke know that she seriously didn't want it, so she respected that and slid two fingers knuckle-deep into the blonde's wet centre. Peyton gasped and moaned at the sudden intrusion.

"That's my good girl. You're so wet, sweetheart." Brooke said, feeling Peyton's juices leaking onto her palm. She turned her hand palm-down and started stroking Peyton deeply and firmly. Peyton moaned continuously.

"Fuck... Don't stop..." Peyton pleaded when Brooke slowed down. Brooke smiled coyly.

"Does my girl like that?" she whispered, stroking Peyton harder. Peyton moaned a quiet 'unh-huh' and pushed herself back against Brooke's fingers.

As Peyton's moans became louder Brooke reached forward and tangled her free hand into Peyton's hair, pulling it so her head was up. "Tell me when you're gonna come." Brooke stated.

Peyton moaned again, the sound of Brooke fingering her turning her on even further. Brooke found a spot where Peyton shivered every time, and she began fucking that one spot. Peyton cried out as her muscles started to contract, "Now." she breathed.

"Come for me, Peyton." Brooke husked. Peyton moaned loudly, digging her nails into Brooke's thigh. Her entire body went numb with pleasure and her vision spotted. The waves of pleasure continuously crashed over her, slowly getting less and less intense. Peyton went completely limp over Brooke, still gasping for air. She hadn't ever came so hard before.

Brooke pulled her fingers out and pushed Peyton off her, making the blonde fall onto the hardwood floor. Peyton looked up, still breathing heavy. She was confused and frustrated and embarrassed all at once. Brooke stood over her, wearing an amused look.

"I have guests and you have work to do. Clean your self up, why don't you?" Brooke said as she wiped her fingers off on a tissue.

Peyton stared dumbfoundedly at the wall. She pulled herself up and looked in the mirror. She had Brooke's purple lipstick smudged over her mouth, her hair was messy, and her dress was pulled up around her stomach.

Brooke turned Peyton around, pointing to the mirror. Peyton looked over her shoulder, seeing her beet red ass. She blushed furiously. Brooke kissed her cheek.

"You look so sexy." she whispered. Peyton turned to face Brooke, swallowing nervously. She pulled her dress back down, and Brooke gently stroked her back. She leaned forward and kissed the blonde, gently. "I really do have to get back to the guests." she said before pulling away. She walked to the door and glanced over at Peyton, smirking at the embarrassed blonde before walking out.

Peyton sighed quietly, picking up a tissue and wiping Brooke's lipstick off her mouth. She looked at herself in the mirror, fixing up her hair.

_What the hell just happened?_


End file.
